


Puppet

by Kireeeshima



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, M/M, POV Second Person, POV Trafalgar D. Water Law, Puppet AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kireeeshima/pseuds/Kireeeshima
Summary: Law is a puppet which never stops dancing. He always puts on a show for everyone. He never thinks and he never feels.At least, that's how it was supposed to be.





	Puppet

**Author's Note:**

> I... Don't know where I was going with this? I don't even know where I got this from. I was kinda just staring at my wall then just... started writing this ig. Law is kinda on an outdoor stage here. I've been writing in second POV a lot lately, turns out it's pretty fun. Anyways, hope you enjoy this... Thing?

Tap.  
Tap.  
Tap

 

 

You hear them clap. You hear them cheer. They love your dancing, it's all you can do. The strings tug at your body, making it sway in a beautiful dance. More clapping. More cheering. They're all so happy and smiling, so you smile too. The strings control you, make you dance and make you smile. A puppet for show for all to watch. You know it but you think nothing of it. You never have, and why would you? You've done nothing but dance and put on a show. Your shoes tap against the wooden stage, your arms glide through the air and your wrist flicks at the end. Tap tap tap. You dance and dance. The sun sets, and they're all gone. You're alone now, but the strings keep moving. So you keep dancing. 

 

Tap.  
Tap.  
Tap.

~x~

It's morning now, and the crowds all back. They cheer and clap as they watch you dance. You never stopped, and you probably never will. But you still don't think about it, because puppets never think. You're doing a new dance and your body does a twirl. You spin and spin with arms up high, like a clockwork ballerina- but you don't run on clockwork, but rather on strings. The strings control you, but who controls the strings? You don't know and you don't care, because you're a puppet, and puppets never think. They don't feel and they don't speak, they're controlled by nothing but wires and strings. You smile but you don't feel happiness. Because you simply don't feel. You were made to dance so dance you shall. And like every other day, you put on a show.

~x~

Drip.  
Drip.  
Drip.

It's raining. No one ever comes when it rains. But even so, you dance. The water slides off of your wood- are you made out of wood? Perhaps metal or tin. You wonder for a second, and a second it was indeed. Puppets never think, and you're a puppet, so it was foolish to consider thinking for even a moment. Your foot slips but the strings keep you from falling. Your dance isn't as good today, good thing you're dancing for nobody. You hear footsteps- do puppets even hear? Someone is coming, you continue your dance. There's someone watching you, but there's no clapping or cheering. Perhaps you're broken, you fear. 

 

“What are you doing?” They ask. Nobody has ever spoken to you, much less ask a question expecting an answer; so you never thought you could speak. But apparently,

 

“Dancing.” you could. The viewer cocks their head to the side, water sliding off of the straw hat that protected their face from the rain.

 

“Why?” They ask. 

 

“It's all I do.” You reply. You continue your dance, overworked limbs creaking in protest. You never hear the creaking when you're surrounded by the cheering and clapping. But now, with only one silent viewer, you hear it all. 

 

“Why do you dance?” They ask again. You think about that. But only for a second. Because you know the answer.

 

“It's all I do.” You say once more. They hum at this, and watch you a bit longer. Then they give a short “cya then.” and they're gone. You're alone now, and you can hear your creaking limbs so much louder. The rain still falls and you still dance, for you are a puppet, and a puppet must dance.

~x~ 

It's a sunny, beautiful day, and many have come to watch. They clap and cheer and drown out your crying limbs. They smile and you smile, but you are empty. You dance and sway around on the stage exactly how the crowd wants to see and exactly how you were made to do. Everyone is happy because of your show- and that's good, that is your job. You don't know who told you that or how you even knew, but somehow you do and you always have. So you continue what you always do and dance.

~x~ 

Rain, snow, heat, cold, alone. No matter what, you dance. Stopping is not an option. It's raining again, and no one is here to watch your show. Or so you think, as the straw hat boy is back.

 

“You're dancing again, is fun or something?” He asks. And you think, is it? 

 

“I don't know.” You reply. And you really don't. There's a lot of things you don't know, because you just don't think. You just do what the strings make you do. They eye you as you continue your never ending dance on the stage alone, and they ask their next question, 

 

“If you don't know, then why do it?” 

 

“It's all I do.” It's all you've ever done. All you'll ever do. The stranger hums. This is weird, you think. No one has ever talked to you. You're a puppet, not a person. Why would one talk to a puppet?

 

“Have you ever wanted to stop?” For a moment, it felt like the dance that you've never stopped before halted. Just for a second. Perhaps it was your imagination- what's an imagination? Your head hurts, why? Maybe it's all the thinking. You shouldn't be thinking, something tells you. So you don't. You stop thinking. 

 

“I don't know.” You say.

 

“... I see.” 

 

You're left alone again.

~x~ 

As always, you're dancing. But for some odd reason, you can hear the creaking of your limbs. Everyone is cheering and clapping, but all you hear is its sobbings and weepings. But no matter, they can cry all they want. Because no matter what, you won't stop. You crave the sun and its warmth. The comfort and the safety it brings. Yet, it's a sunny day with smiles all around. But you feel no warmth or comfort. You smile for the crowd, and you find it hurts. How odd, you think. You're not supposed to feel pain, much less think about anything. It seems like you've been thinking a lot lately.

 

Let's stop, you decide.

~x~ 

Rain, so much rain. Why is it raining so much lately? With none to watch your show and none to drown out the creaks and cries, you find it harder than ever to keep that smile on your face. In fact, you found that you couldn't put it on at all. Your 'face’ feels weird, almost as if your lips are curved down rather than up as it should. Maybe you really are breaking. After all, you're thinking and hurting, and no longer smiling. But at least you're still dancing, you're not entirely broken then.

 

“You seem even less happy than usual, not that you ever seem to be happy in the first place.” A familiar voice says. You feel the sun. Warmth. Peace. You look over during your dance to see the straw hat boy once again. You say nothing. You continue your dance but no matter how hard you try you still can't smile. Your body creaks and cries and your dance gets sloppy. You hear no cheers and no clapping, in fact the other is frowning. You find you don't like that. That face is not meant for frowns, but rather smiles. Unlike yours, which is cold, emotionless, and so terribly empty, his is bright and round. So full of the emotions which you lack. 

It's because you are a puppet, something reminds you. So dance, it says. So you dance. You dance and dance but it only gets harder to force yourself to smile. You want to smile though, which is odd because a puppet should never want anything. But you want to see the other happy. You want to see the other smile. That's what you were made to do, right? To entertain and make others smile.

 

“Are you in pain? Does it hurt?” The other asks after a long moment of silence. Does what hurt, exactly? You don't even truly know what pain is. You think what you've been feeling is pain. You think you've been hurting, but you've never thought before so you don't really know if you're right. Maybe you're wrong and perhaps this isn't pain after all. 

 

“I think.” You say. They crawl up on the stage- no one has ever done that before. You want to say something, but no words come out. Something starts repeating to you, reminding you to stop thinking and dance. It repeats over and over that you are no more than a puppet. You must dance, it says. So you do. But it hurts. Each step the creaking seems to grow louder, you trip on the slippery wood more. It hurts. But the strings control you. It makes you dance. 

“Do you want it to stop?” They ask. Do you want what to stop? The pain? The hurt? Dancing? The show which you never stop? The strings which control you? You don't know. You've never thought before but now you are, and you don't know what's right and what's wrong and if you should and if you shouldn't, but-

 

 

“Yes.” You say, despite the voice that says no. It tries to make you take that back, remind you of who you are. What you are. But what's done is done but you find you still can't stop dancing. You want it stop, this dancing, this show. The pain and the hurt. The stranger is grinning and you don't know why, but you feel warmth. As if, despite the rain, the sun came out. You feel warmth and comfort, but confusion when they pull out a dagger. You want to ask why and what they're doing. But before you can even attempt to speak, they slash. 

 

 

And you fall.


End file.
